like a butterfly I will spread my wings and fly
by The Crownless Queen
Summary: In which Minerva chooses Neville to be the new Gryffindor Prefect instead of Ron.


Written for Hogwarts' Around the World Event: Moldova - Word: Marauder, the National Princess Day: Zelda - Zelda Games - Write about a popular or well-known character and the Writing Club - Showtime: Eyes On The Prize I - (character) Minerva McGonagall.

Also because I was talking to Em one day and thought 'omg, what if Neville had been Prefect instead of Ron?' I mean, I love my socially awkward ginger, but I honestly don't know how McGonagall chose him to be Prefect.

 _Word count:_ 934

* * *

 **The Choice**

Minerva's first pick for a fifth-year Prefect is Harry Potter.

As she tells Albus, it's the decision that makes the most sense. "His work ethic could use some work but he's charismatic enough, and he does know how to handle responsibilities."

In hindsight, that probably wasn't the best thing to say—they both know the kind of weight Harry already carries on his shoulders, and though being made a Prefect is nothing compared to being hunted by a disillusioned Dark Lord, it is still _something_.

Still, Minerva persists, even if she can tell from the dull look in Albus' blue eyes that she's already lost him—but she's a lion, and she'll be damned if she doesn't go down fighting him on this.

"He could use the support after what happened last year. You know what the Ministry's been saying, how they tried to expel him for defending his life," she says, fists clenched tight as she starts to pace, raging internally.

Albus sighs tiredly from behind his desk. He rubs at his temples, and Minerva feels a stab of pity at the sight of this gesture. As much as she admires this man, he is getting too old for this job—they joke all too often about his retirement, and who'll be left to take over for him.

"You're right, as always, Minerva," Albus says with a long sigh.

"But?" Minerva retorts, crossing her arms and glaring at him as she catches on. "Why do you think he isn't the right choice?"

"It's like you said," Albus explains, hands sitting on his desk as his piercing blue eyes look at her over his half-moon glasses. "Harry has responsibilities, and I fear they might catch up to him this year—I would have him, if you'd allow it, enjoy the last of his childhood as long as he can."

Minerva huffed a frustrated sigh. "You can't honestly believe in Sybil's ridiculous-"

Albus shuts her up with a hard glare, his presence suddenly heavy in the room. His magic presses down on her lungs, making it hard to breathe. It's gone as fast as it came, but it still leaves Minerva slightly shaken.

"What Sybil may or may not have said," Albus replies, looking at her pointedly, "and whether or not I believe in it is hardly what matters—what does is that _Voldemort_ believes in it. And it's because of that fact that I fear for Harry's safety. He would be better off without the distractions being a Prefect would bring. And," he adds, his face falling with grief, "I think he is still grieving for Mr. Diggory's untimely death."

Minerva had to blink back a few tears at that. While Diggory hadn't been one of her lions, he had been a good and kind young man, who had deserved so much better than to be cut down in his prime in such a horrible way—for his death to be used to besmirch the one who had tried to save him, too. What an insult!

"And what makes you believe that being a Prefect, focusing on his work, isn't exactly the kind of distraction Mr. Potter would need to keep out of trouble this year?" Minerva asks, but she can tell that she's already lost. Albus does have good points, too—Harry does deserve to have time to grieve in peace, to be the normal kid he tells everyone he wants to be. It might be hard for him with his status this year, but it would be harder as a Prefect.

"We can do that by occupying his friends—I seem to remember us doing the same not so long ago with another band of mischief makers. The Marauders, wasn't it?" Albus' lips curl into a smile that Minerva has to return, though she does so reluctantly.

"And we all remember how well _that_ worked, don't we? How often did Remus actually manage to keep his friends out of trouble?"

Albus' smile widens. "More often than he would have otherwise, I suspect."

Minerva huffs a laugh before shaking her head. "That doesn't matter," she replies. "I'm not making Ron Weasley a Prefect—you must be mad. He's a fine Gryffindor, for sure, and if he had a few more years' maturity I would say yes in a heartbeat, but as he is right now? I fear Ms. Granger would end up doing all the work for him."

From Albus' wince, the same thought has occurred to him.

"Mr. Thomas, then? Or Mr. Finnegan? I hear they get on quite well with the younger years," Albus suggests.

Minerva hums lightly. "Maybe," she says, but her mind is already elsewhere—namely, that asking either Thomas or Finnegan to be a Prefect can only be a recipe for disaster. She pictures her tower exploding or bursting into flames, and shudders.

That only really leaves her with a single choice, but the more she thinks about it, the more appealing it becomes.

"Actually," she says," I was thinking about Mr. Longbottom. All his teachers—except Severus, of course," she adds, biting her lips and furiously glaring at the man who's refused to take her numerous complaints about Severus' behavior in a classroom into account, "have told me that he was a dedicated student, if a bit shy. I feel that a dose of responsibility might be just what he needs to get the confidence to break out of his shell."

Albus does seem taken by the idea, nodding along. "Mr. Longbottom could use that help, yes," he states.

"Then we've decided?" Minerva asks.

Albus nods decisively. "Yes. Neville Longbottom will be the new Gryffindor Prefect."


End file.
